I Feel So Incomplete
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: It was an unsettling night all around.
1. Heart Defect

**Every now and then I do this thing where I try to get organized. Yeah, I know, ****_ew. _And one of the things I do to try to achieve such a state is go through my documents and files, and do what needs to be done with certain things. So I've been going through some files lately, and, like, I have quite a few Merlin fics that I started and have absolutely no intention of ever _finishing_, because I lost interest or don't know what to do next or the idea is such shit I hate myself for ever starting in on it in the first place. And I thought it would be a waste to just, like, delete the stuff. Like, I literally would not be able to sleep if I just deleted all my hard work without doing something with it.**

**So this is where I'm going to put it. Every Merlin fic I've ever started and now have zero interest in ever finishing will be posted here. They're not going to be finished, and some of them will _barely_ be suited for public viewing—I actually sort of hate myself for writing some of these fics—and, really, I'm just posting this to make things easier for me, but if you still feel like reading, go right ahead. Every chapter is going to be a different fic, and none of them are going to be connected in any sort of way. I guess you could call this something of a one-shot collection, except none of the one-shots are actually _complete._ **

**Actually, I've probably lied: there are a few fics I'll post here that I'll _maybe someday _get around to finishing, but the majority of these are never ever getting a proper ending. Sorry.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. I get way too bored way too easily for that. Obviously.

* * *

_Heart Defect_

* * *

Gaius had informed Merlin once, after many examinations and experiments, that his heart simply beat too fast. It wasn't cause for concern, simply a consequence of the magic that made him up, that coursed through him.

There were extra precautions he would need to take—an herbal mixture every day and perhaps a simple spell to calm himself if he got too worked up—but he was perfectly normal, otherwise. The sort of life he led—adventurous and dangerous—would wear on any heart, and his was no exception. But, with his herbs and magic, he would be perfectly fine.

Until he found himself falling in love with the stupid prat he was serving. Then, oh _then_, his heart was in trouble.

He would walk by him, find his heart would skip a beat and scare him close to death.

They would touch or Merlin would be undressing him or catch sight of him naked before or after a bath, and his heart would stutter, his blood freezing in fear, face paling until it was under control again or he had a moment alone to say the words that became a lifeline to him.

Arthur Pendragon was going to be the absolute death of him. Quite literally, if they weren't careful.

The first time Arthur kissed him, then, he wasn't surprised to find his heart racing, leaving him even more breathless than Arthur, were that even possible. He had needed to sit down; he was lightheaded, his heart was beating so fast. He needed a moment to regain his composure, taking Arthur's joke about his kisses taking his breath away without explaining his condition. It would only worry him after all.

He had it under control, anyway.

The first time they made love, it was all passion and kisses and desperate touches, Merlin just going with the heat of the moment until Arthur was straddling him, pulling his shirt over his head and allowing him a moment to catch his breath. Only then, with his breathing rapid and his heart running in his chest, did he remember why he had resisted Arthur's touches and desire for so long. Only then did he remember his fear.

But then Arthur was kissing him again, slow but still desperate and Merlin told himself that if he convinced Arthur to take it slow, all would be well.

After the fact, when they were both collapsed in Arthur's bed, sweaty and glowing, Merlin's heart was stuttering in his chest and he was almost positive he was going to die, but with his arms around Arthur, with the blond's head on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbone… he just didn't _care._

"Merlin… Your heart… why is it beating so fast?" Arthur asked in concern, popping up on his chest momentarily, his features marred with concern and worry.

"Does that… magic makes it beat faster than most… Just need a moment." He answered, still breathless.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur demanded. "If I had known, I wouldn't have—"

"I didn't want you to worry, I… I wanted this, Arthur. _Badly_."

"But your _heart_, Merlin—"

"Is _my_ concern, not yours."

"Your heart is just as much my concern as it is _yours_. It's _mine_; I hold _your_ heart just as you hold _mine_, and I need to know if I'm doing things to it that endanger you—do you understand?" He asked, his tone very much that of the royal arse he could be_._

Merlin rolled his eyes, heart finally relaxing under Arthur's touch and careful gaze without the need of his spell.

"Yes, my lord."


	2. Is This A Proposal Or An Inquisition

**Disclaimer: **I still very clearly do not own anything. Which, yeah, that includes Merlin.

* * *

_Is This A Proposal Or An Inquisition_

* * *

The laws were clear on one thing and one thing alone by the time Arthur was done with them: people, royalty or commoner, king or servant, were allowed to marry whomever they wanted to for whatever reason they wanted to. There were no longer any laws separating anyone from those they wanted to be with.

Arthur wished he could have said he did it just because it was the right thing to do, but, if he was being honest, it had more to do with who he was in love with than anything else. Under the old laws, Merlin could never be anything other than Arthur's manservant, his court sorcerer in later years, and his best friend, but, under the new laws…

They were free to be whatever they wanted to be.

And the shift from servant to consort wasn't a hard one at all. It was a smooth transition, easy and careful and natural and _right. _

Everyone was happy for them, completely unsurprised at the turn of evenbts. It was only a matter of time, after all.

It wasn't enough for Arthur, though. The kisses and teasings and dates and being with Merlin most hours of the day. He wanted to wake up tangled in same sheets and sweat, basked in love and the morning rays, sloppy kisses and groggy touches stirring him from slumber.

And he wanted to do it the _proper_ way.

If it had been entirely up to him, he would have taken Merlin away for the day, and asked the question tucked into the forest or near the lake Merlin loved so much, but it wasn't up to him. Not entirely. He needed to set an example, his council had informed him. He needed to let people know that it was more than talk, that the laws would hold no matter who they were talking about.

So it was to be made a semi-public affair with enough knights and advisers and servants present to be able to spread the word quickly enough.

Merlin could not know of the plan, however, Arthur had insisted. No matter how many other people knew of it, _Merlin_ could not know. And if anyone spoke a _word_ of it to him, he would see to their punishment personally.

Nobody said a word to Merlin.

So when he walked into the council chambers with Gwaine and Lancelot on the big day, talking and laughing about something or another, he was under the impression that he was simply needed on a subject of magic. It was not uncommon for the council to gather to seek his knowledge on such matters, after all, so it was as good as a cover as any.

"Ah, Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, grinning brightly and breaking away from his advisors when he caught sight of him.

Merlin grinned back at him, holding his hands behind his back and slowly, purposefully, striding forward, taking him time to approach him, all smiles and teasing until Arthur, ever impatient, closed the distance between them with a wide grin on his face and placed a chaste kiss against Merlin's smile; he could be teasing as well, if that was how Merlin wanted to be.

Merlin snorted, almost indignant with it, when Arthur pulled back, grinning triumphantly.

"You don't _really_ think you're getting off that easily, Pendragon…"

"And what if I do, _Mer_lin?" He challenged. And it didn't matter that the room was full of his knights, his court, his advisors, all their closest friends, Arthur was giddy and nervous and Merlin's kisses always made everything better.

"Then you've got another thing coming…" He mumbled, hands snaking into Arthur's hair, tugging him forward with the slightest sting that Arthur loved.

Merlin's lips were near his ear, he was mumbling something, sending a shiver down Arthur's spine. He closed his eyes, a groan escaping his lips as he melted, forgetting entirely where he was and what he was meant to be doing.

Merlin's lips were on his suddenly, soft and careful, setting his nerves on fire, burning up his butterflies with the swift and careful way his arms wrapped around him, tugging him close, easing into him.

It only seemed natural, after they broke apart and Merlin's eyes were closed, humming ridiculously as his mouth tugged upwards, for Arthur to slide out of his now slackened grasp and lower himself to one knee, heart pounding in his ears as the room fell to a hush. Arthur felt every pair of eyes in the room fall on him, on them, as one of his advisors quickly shoved a small box into his hands and then rejoined the throngs of knights and servants and members of the court in observation.

Just as Arthur turned the box to face Merlin, his eyes snapped open, a slowly forming frown melting into surprise when he took in the room, his eyes finally coming back to Arthur's, still wide but softer now with what Arthur was sure was realization.

This could be over in mere seconds, Arthur realized when he looked into Merlin's eyes. The answer would be _yes_; he could slip the ring onto his finger and they could be done with this, but, he had spent too much time planning this moment to throw it all away now.

"Arthur…" Merlin breathed, his voice raspy with disbelief and unmistakable joy.

"Merlin." Arthur said pointedly, his voice playful with authority. His heart was running madly in his chest, but he'd fought countless battles, had slain many enemies, surely he could do _this. _"You've never made a habit of listening to me in the past, but… just this _once,_ hear me out.

"You are…" He took a breath, feigning deep thought for a moment before continuing. "A terrible servant, a right idiot, bit of a clotpole, bit of a drunk, if you've _really_ spent so much time in the tavern…"

"Is this a proposal or an inquisition?" Merlin asked, smiling despite the indignation laced through his words.

"See, couldn't last two minutes without interrupting, could you?" Arthur teased, chuckling with the rest of the room.

"Get on with it, then." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Right. Clotpole, drunk, terrible servant and listener, _but."_ He said sharply. _"But_ I love you, anyway." He smiled softly at the sharp intake of breath that came from Merlin. And with good reason, too; Arthur wasn't the sort to express his feelings so boldly in front of so many people. But this was _Merlin_ and he wanted everyone to know how much he cared.

"I changed the laws just for you, Merlin, just so I could do _this._ And just… You're quite possibly the best and worst thing to ever happen to me, you know that? Would you… _Will_ you marry me, Merlin?"


	3. Sleepwalking

**Disclaimer: **I don't actually own _Merlin._ Sometimes I like to pretend that I do, but then I come back to reality and realize yeah, still don't own jack. And it's quite the slap in the face, let me tell you.

* * *

_Sleepwalking_

* * *

It was said that you did not, for any reason whatsoever, wake a sleepwalker. Arthur wasn't quite sure what the consequences would have been, but he knew it was something you did not do. So. When Arthur, on a late night stroll through the castle, saw Merlin dawdling along and couldn't quite grab his attention, he knew, somehow instantly that he was sleepwalking. And since he couldn't—_shouldn't—_wake him, he thought it best to follow him—to make sure that he did not hurt himself or anyone else.

At least, that was what he told himself as he trailed along behind him, wanting an excuse of some sort to follow him, keep him safe from himself.

As they trailed through the halls, Arthur close enough to wonder there they were going and keep his idiot manservant from causing himself harm, they came upon the knights, all just stumbling in from a long night at the tavern. Of course, none of them could grab Merlin's attention either, leaving Arthur the task of shrugging at them.

"Sleepwalking." He explained, increasing his pace to keep up.

There were a series of whispers, of thumbs at Arthur's heels, and suddenly, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Elyan were at his side, all wondering, all wanting to know where Merlin was going.

They followed him in silence, in whispers and quiet gazes, through the halls, and , interestingly enough, out of the castle.

When Merlin began to unknowingly lead them through the forest, Percival nudged Arthur, speaking freely now that they had escaped the silent restrains of the castle.

"How long are you going to let this go on? What if he hurts himself?"

"That's why we're here." Arthur waved him off. He had already come so far, had already been following Merlin for so long; he wasn't going to back down now. "To make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

"I thought we just wanted to see what was so important that he's sleep walking to get to it?" Elyan asked.

"That, too." Arthur admitted, shushing further conversation as Merlin led them deeper through the forest for what felt like hours.

When they finally came out the other side, they were met with the most glorious, the most breath-takingly beautiful of lakes, beautiful with the full moon reflecting in its watery depths as though it were swimming just beneath the surface.


	4. Three Reasons

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin. Things would be _so different_ if I did, but, alas...

* * *

_Three Reasons_

* * *

It shouldn't have been a difficult task. Really, it shouldn't have.

Arthur and Merlin had gotten into a fight and it was _stupid,_ really, Merlin didn't think Arthur appreciated him enough, thought that he was taking him for granted and didn't show the slightest bit of concern for anyone but himself. He thought, for all intents and purposes, that Arthur was reverting back to who he was _before_ Merlin had come into his life.

Arthur had scoffed at the notion; he was crown prince, he didn't need to take that from a servant.

"That's just it, though, isn't it?" Merlin had demanded, arms wide, eyes narrowed with disbelief and outrage that was palpable. "I'm not _just_ another servant, Arthur! I'm… I'm supposed to be _more_ than that! I thought you _cared!"_

Arthur took a step back, the implications of Merlin's words like a slap to the face. Of course he cared! He cared for Merlin more than he cared for anyone else in the kingdom, in the world! He wasn't the best with words and things of the such, but, he had hoped, he had been showing him how much he truly cared.

Apparently not.

Wounded, worried, and almost scared, he took a step toward him, hand coming up to cup Merlin's cheek, honing in on the wounded look in his eyes, so hurt and heartbroken that Arthur was willing to do anything to take it away.

Until Merlin took a step back, shook his head slightly, eyes slipping closed for a second.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered softly, terrified for half a moment beyond words and reason.

"Arthur…" He sighed in response, eyes opening with a new sort of resolution and stubbornness. "This isn't—"

"No." Arthur interrupted, fear prickling at his core. "No, Merlin, don't you dare." He shook his head furiously, knowing where the conversation would go if allowed to progress unchecked. "I care, you know that, _I_ _care,_ damnit. I just… I'm not the best at expressing it sometimes, you _know that._ You know you mean more to me that anything else, more than anyone else."

"That's not good enough, Arthur."

"Fine. Tell me how to fix this and I'll do it. Anything, as long as I get to keep you."

Merlin sighed, lips pursed together for the longest, most stress-inducing moment of Arthur's life.

"Three reasons, Arthur." He said at last. "Give me three good reasons to stay with you and we'll forget this ever happened. _Three."_

"And what if I can't come up with three?" Arthur asked after a moment of through.

"Then…" Merlin shrugged, his smile tight and almost apologetic. "Three reasons, Arthur." He repeated. "You have a week."


	5. Just Friends

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin. Or that other thing you think I own. Yeah, I don't own that either.

* * *

_Just Friends_

* * *

It really wasn't any of Percival's business _what_ Arthur and Merlin did in their spare time, but, after a few weeks of being a knight of Camelot, of observing the pair together…

He just _had_ to know.

They revolved around each other, teased and flirted, made doe eyes and bedroom eyes at one another. Percival had been around long enough to know when two people were fooling around, after all.

But with Arthur and Merlin… It was more than that, wasn't it? They _genuinely_ seemed to care about one another and Percival didn't know if they were together or just dancing around the truth or what.

So. Out on a quest one night, when they were all—himself, Leon, Lancelot, Elyan, Gwaine, Arthur, and Merlin, of course—settled in for the night around the fire, eating their dinner, Percival let his gaze wander over to where the prince and his servant were sitting, each eating their food, laughing about something the others seemed ignorant to. And even just the way they _laughed_ together was so familiar and intimate it was enough to make anyone wonder about them.

"Weird, isn't it?" Elyan asked, pointing subtly with his spoon before taking a bite of his food. "Way they are together? Don't ever see that many princes acting like that with their servants."

Percival nodded, glad he wasn't the only one who had noticed it.

"That's because Arthur doesn't see Merlin as just another servant—not really. Not for a long time now." Leon supplied, and he had been around long enough that Percival was inclined to believe most things he had to say on any such subject.

"And Merlin doesn't treat him like a prince." Lancelot added. "To Merlin, he's just Arthur."

"Except when he's acting like a spoiled princess. Then he's a dollop-pole or whatever Merlin likes to call him." Gwaine chuckled, nodding in the direction of the pair in question.

"They've always been like this, then?" Percival asked.

"Since the beginning." Leon nodded. "Well, neither of them liked it at first, when Uther made Merlin his servant," he admitted a moment later. "But, within the week, they were teasing each other and acting like they hated each other even when there was a sort of mutual respect growing between them. Somewhere along the line, that fake hate and mutual respect turned into…" He shrugged, trailing off as he nodded in their direction, to the way they were peering at each other, grins on their faces as they ignored the knights completely in favor of whatever they had going on between them.

Percival nodded in understanding, let silence settle in between them as he ate more of his food, a few long moments that were punctuated by Arthur's and Merlin's laughter passing by before he asked, "So are they… I don't know… Just… _what_ are they, exactly?"

The others all chuckled at the question, shaking their heads as they finished their food.

"We wonder about that ourselves sometimes." Gwaine told him.

"They'll say they're _just friends_, and I've asked Merlin about it enough that I know that, but... _look_ _at them_—can you really call what they have between them _just_ friendship?" Lancelot asked.


	6. Summer Heat

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At least, I don't _think_ I do, but I don't really know anymore. I'd ask my Magic 8 Ball, but, well, we don't talk about what happened to it, because _try again later_ gets really god damn annoying after a while so just, yeah, we don't talk about that around here anymore.

* * *

_Summer Heat_

* * *

Summers in Camelot were usually so pleasant; hot but bearable. If one was lucky, there was a pleasant enough sort of breeze about, but, even when there wasn't, it was still… tolerable.

Except when it wasn't. Except when the sun itself was licking at men's backs, painting a trail of sweat wherever it touched.

On such days when the sun in the sky was _ruthless_, Arthur felt for the men and women who had to toll out in the fields all day, felt for his own men during training when he worked them too hard and he could see the sweat staining their armor, cascading down their faces. They needed to be ready and able to fight in any sort of condition and weather, yes, but, if he ended training a bit early on such unbearable days… No one would complain, really.

After ending afternoon training early one such day, Arthur walked into his chambers, quickly stripping of his armor—which was hot to the touch—and chainmail, quickly tugged his sweat-soaked shirt off and called for Merlin; it was hot and he could do with a cool bath…

"One moment." Merlin called out, tucked away out of sight.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and followed the sound of Merlin's voice, honestly, if he had wanted to—

When he caught sight of Merlin, mending one of Arthur's tunics, he stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight of Merlin sitting there, eyes caught in concentration as his fingers worked on the article of clothing, his own top nowhere to be seen…

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, scandalized at the sight of Merlin's bare chest, his hair dark, his body lean and almost muscular, strong in a way Arthur had never imagined him to be before.

"Mending your favorite tunic." Merlin looked up at him, his fingers pausing in their work as he held it up in example.

_"I mean," _Arthur rolled his eyes, face flushing slightly. "Why don't you have a top on?" he asked, gesturing at him.

"Oh." Merlin nodded, looked down at his own bare chest and then Arthur's. "Why don't _you_ have a top on?" He asked in return.

"Because I—hang on, I don't have to explain myself to you."

Merlin rolled his eyes and went back to his work before answering. "It's hot, and I was sweating through my shirt, so I took it off. Your turn."

"It's hot as hell and I was training my knights—worked up a nice sweat the manly way and not mending a _tunic."_ Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to distract himself from looking down at Merlin's chest with their usual banter.

"It's _your_ tunic," Merlin rolled his eyes right back. "And I worked up a sweat running up and down the stairs doing _your_ chores and _Gaius'_ errands. By the time I came back here to mend this damned thing my top and scarf were both drenched. So unless you wanted your tunic to smell like my sweat…"

"Why would I want that?"

"That's why I was asking." Merlin said, exasperated in a stupidly obvious way.

Arthur glowered at him for a moment before he shook his head and let out an aggravated sort of sigh, crossed his arms over his chest and watched Merlin for a moment longer, his fingers steady and quick, a bead of sweat glistening on his forehead between his creased brows. He let his eyes trail down against his better judgement to the way the sweat was clinging to the rest of his body as well, his neck, the dip of his collarbone, his chest and shoulders—Jesus, was it just Arthur or was the room getting about a hundred times _hotter?_

"Are you just about done with that?" He snapped at Merlin.

Merlin looked up from his work, eyebrows coming even closer together for a moment as he gave Arthur a long, wondering look that Arthur could read _quite well_, thank you very much.

"Yeah, I guess." He said, tying off his work and breaking the thread. He threw the tunic over the back of the chair he was sitting in and stood, crossed the room to put the needle away, his back fucking _glistening_ with sweat.

Jesus, was the heat making Arthur delirious or what?

"So, erm," Merlin said, standing in front of Arthur with his hands clasped behind his back, the image of which, by the way, had a completely _different_ effect on Arthur when his damned manservant was _half-naked_ than when he was fully clothed. "Did you need something, sire?" He asked, completely innocent in the way he posed the question.

"Yes," Arthur cleared his throat, eyes coming back up to find Merlin's.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused for some reason or another.

"Yes. A bath."

"A bath?"

"Yes, _a bath." _Arthur snapped. "I would like to take one now. Cold water. Get on it. _Now."_

Merlin gave him a forced sort of smile and turned around to get started with his task without another word, perhaps a bit distracted by the heat to say anything smart in response. Arthur went to the other half of the room and tried to distract himself from the image of his half-naked manservant, glistening with sweat just in the other half of his room, his muscles flexing and _moving_ with their task and the glorious way they must have looked. He tried to bite down something that tasted like jealousy when he remembered that, to get the water _for_ said bath, Merlin would have to go about the caste, up and down the stairs, still without his top on, for all to see. He didn't much care who saw him in such a state, but Arthur did, he didn't want everyone in the caste to have seen _his_ manservant half-naked—even if it wasn't, technically, the half that counted.

"And put a damned top on, for godssake!" Arthur hissed at Merlin as he opened the door to get started with his chore.

"But it's _hot."_

"You won't see any of the other servants wandering about without shirts on."

"And if all the other servants decided they wanted to kill their masters, would you want me to do that as well?" He asked cheekily, eyes widened in that way of his when he was trying to be too innocent to get away with whatever he wanted to. Too bad for him, Arthur knew all his tricks by now.

"Yes. It would give me a decent enough excuse to throw you in the cells for a few days so I could have a bit of peace and quiet for once."

Merlin rolled his eyes and let the door slip closed through his fingers. He crossed the room once again and picked up a shirt Arthur hadn't noticed laying there before and crinkled his nose before slipping it on.

"Happy now?" He asked rhetorically.

"I'll be happier when I have that bath."

Merlin grumbled something under his breath as he passed by Arthur, his purple top clinging to his sweat-soaked body in a way that could only be described as provocative.

The second the door closed and Merlin was gone for the moment, Arthur let out a breath and tried to compose himself. Honestly, he _really_ shouldn't have been reacting like this to Merlin merely having his top off...

Some time later, he was still telling himself that, as he finished undressing behind his screen, peeling his clothes off the bottom of his body with relief. He walked out from behind the screen, thankful he'd managed to talk himself into calming the _fuck_ down before Merlin could notice anything, and quickly sank down into the bath Merlin had prepared for him, his gasp of surprise melting into a sigh of relief at the cool contact of the water on his skin. Jesus, that was so much _better, _he allowed himself to sink further into the water, so cool and soothing against his hot skin, his sweaty body...

"Can I take my shirt off now?" Merlin asked, jolting Arthur back into waking thoughts with a sort of thrill at the different implications that question could have.

Arthur gave him a sort of bug-eyed look for half a moment before he realized that he merely meant he wanted to take off his sweat-soaked top now that his chore was done and he would, more likely than not, be confined to Arthur's chambers for some time now. He nodded soundlessly then, and tried to focus back on his bath, on the cool water, but instead, he found his eyes drifting to Merlin as he practically tore his top off himself, sighing in relief as he threw the article of clothing to the side for the time being. Arthur adverted his eyes when Merlin looked back over to him, trying to pretend he _hadn't_ just been licking his bottom lip lasciviously when his servant stood there like _that, _more sweat clinging to his torso than should have been possible.

He tried to get his mind on other matters for a few moments, tried to focus on matters outside of the room that would need tending to once he was finished with his bath, but, inevitably, his gaze _always_ wound up drifting back over to Merlin, roaming across his bare stomach and neck and chest and shoulders and arms until finally, he was willing to admit, he was just shamelessly ogling him.

Having to have noticed Arthur's line of sight by now, Merlin squirmed slightly, clasping his hands in front of himself as he cleared his throat.

"Is, erm... everything all right, my lord?" He asked.

"You're hot." Arthur said simply, trying to brush off the embarrassment at having been caught. Merlin was _his_ servant, after all, if he wanted to just _look_ at him, he was allowed to do that. Technically.

"Well that's what happens during summer—people get hot. And not everyone has the luxury of taking cold baths every time a little sweat happens to stain their clothes, you know." He teased, giving Arthur a small smile as a line of sweat collected at his brow.

Arthur bit his lip and, before he could collect his senses, told Merlin, "Take your trousers off."

"Pardon me, sire?" He said, blanching at either Arthur's tone or the words themselves, he couldn't be too sure _which. _His face might have been paling, Arthur noticed, but his chest, his neck, his _ears_ were turning red, and the implications of that were more than enough to spur Arthur on further until he could think reasonably again.

"Get in the bath with me, Merlin." He sighed at last, swallowing down the light, fluttery feeling that rose in his veins at the thought of Merlin—_naked_—in the same bath as him. If he was really going to have him do it, he didn't need to have a raging erection the entire time.

"Erm... why?" He asked, his hands fluttering up nervously to tug at a scarf that wasn't there at the moment.

Arthur smiled affectionately at the nervous habit before answering. "You're hot, the water's cold, the bath's plenty big. Get in before I change my mind."

Merlin eyed him warily for a moment, but Arthur met the look with a measured look of his own until Merlin shrugged in defeat, the heat winning out over any suspicions he might have had concerning Arthur's motives for inviting him to do such a thing with him. Without another word, he kicked off he remainder of his clothes and Arthur forced his eyes away, he felt weird enough for ogling him with just his _shirt_ off, he didn't want to be caught watching him strip of the rest of his clothes as well—that didn't stop him from sneaking a peek as Merlin slid into the bath across from him, of course, but... It couldn't be helped.

When Merlin sighed into the water, relief written clear across his face as the cool water welcomed him, Arthur smiled and sank down just a touch more. He could get used to this—just... Him and Merlin. Alone. In the bath together. All the things they could do, all the _fun_ they could have together... He swallowed, he had thought the cold water would help squash any unwanted erections, but...

"Should I really be here right now?" Merlin asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"I invited you in, didn't I?" Arthur asked back, locking eyes with him.

"Yes, but..." He let his eyes trail down to where Arthur's erection was just rising above the water. Arthur ducked his head, closed his eyes for a second and tried not to blush. _Jesus._

"I should just..." Merlin made to stand up but Arthur instinctively reached out to grab his wrist when he felt the water shift. He brought his eyes back up and willed Merlin to _stay_ without so many words. Merlin seemed to get the message but a shadow of hesitance played across his face as he lingered between staying and going. "You probably want to... you know, take care of that." He sighed, coughing to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

"You getting out is _not_ going to help any."

"What the hell is that—"

"Was I—did you—_before_ you—_Jesus, Merlin." _Arthur almost glowered at him, his eyes hooded with desire and annoyance, he wasn't really going to make Arthur _say it_, was he?

"Am I—?" Merlin asked slowly then, eyes widening slightly.

Arthur sank down into the water further, trying to imagine how things could possibly get any worse. He had had the best of intentions, he swore, he had only wanted Merlin to cool off some so his sweat would stop clinging to him in that beautiful sort of way—how the hell had things gotten so... out of hand?

His eyes came up slowly when he felt the water shift against his chest and watched as Merlin, hesitantly, climbed over him, straddling him with a desire in his eyes that made Arthur shiver in anticipation and _want_ as his own erection brushed against Arthur's.

"Arthur..." he whispered, Arthur's name dancing against his own face as Merlin lowered himself down to eye level with him.

Arthur tilted his head back slightly, eyes drooping as all sense left him and he reached a hand up to grasp at the back of Merlin's head and tug him closer until their lips were touching, warming Arthur's core and making the bath all but useless when a fine layer of sweat collected on his upper lip.

"So _that's_ why you wanted me in the bath with you, mm?" Merlin teased, leaving the barest amount of space between their mouths.

"_No._" Arthur growled, trying to decide if he was more offended or turned on in that moment before Merlin chuckled and kissed him again, his lips dancing across Arthur's reassuringly, and it was nice and sweet and slow, until he nipped at Arthur's bottom lip, a different sort of thrill running down his spine at the gesture. Arthur raised an eyebrow in question and was simply met with a sheepish sort of grin in response before he tugged him back for another. One of Merlin's hands came up to rest on the back of Arthur's neck, and the other—oh, the other ventured down, trailing down his chest and stomach into the water and then to the base of his—

"_Merlin." _Arthur gasped out.

"Yes?"

"You're making me _crazy."_

_"Good."_


	7. The Puppy

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin. I'm too tired to come up with a wittier way to say it, so just pretend I've said something hilarious that still gets the point across, 'kay? Thanks.

* * *

_The Puppy_

* * *

"Please, Arthur? _Please?" _Merlin begged—_begged! _Oh, Arthur would have to remember that face, that tone, for later on—for what felt like the millionth time that morning. They—well, Arthur—were supposed to be training, but they'd made the mistake of walking by the dogs, and now Merlin was carrying a damn puppy in his arms, begging Arthur to let him keep it.

It was early spring, birthing season. And every year the best hunting dogs were bred, the pups inspected, the weak culled, the others raised to be bloody brilliant hunting and tracking dogs. It was the way the castle had operated for years, the way it would always operate—why did Merlin insist on challenging that?

"She's adorable, Arthur." Merlin cooed, stroking her fur gently as they walked past the waiting knights. "How could you want to kill her?" He demanded.

Arthur let out a tired sigh. "It's nothing against _her,_ she just happens to be the runt. Runts rarely make good hunting dogs, so they're culled to save everybody's time. Now go return her—"

"No." Merlin interrupted, stern, stubborn, holding the damn squirming thing protectively in his arms.

"Excuse me?"

"I will not return her to her death, Arthur. It's completely idiotic that just because she's smaller than the other dogs you would have her killed."

"I _told you_, _Merlin," _Arthur placed his hands on his hips. "Runts rarely make good hunting dogs, so—"

"She won't _be_ a hunting dog, then. Let me keep her as my pet. It will keep her alive and the only time it'll waste will be my own. And I don't mind wasting it on something as adorable as her. Please, Arthur? _Please?"_

Arthur sighed once again at Merlin, pinched the bridge of his nose.

Merlin was making that stupid _face._ The one that made Arthur want to kiss him silly in front of all his knights, and the entire kingdom. The one that spelled out Arthur's doom.

"Fine. Keep the damn dog—see if I care."

Merlin beamed, his smile wide and crooked as he looked down at the dog in his arms, eyes wide and soft with wonder and unconditional love, a bond already forming between them that Arthur would not admit he was jealous of.

"Thank you. You won't regret this."

"Oh, I already do." He retorted, clucking his tongue under his breath. "Take her to your chambers now, see if you can't convince Gaius to let you keep her as well. But come right back afterwards—we still have training to do."

Merlin nodded, turned on his heel and stalked past the knights, a spring in his step that Arthur was actually quite glad he was responsible for. He approached the waiting knights, eyes still caught on Merlin's retreating form.

"That was nice of you." Lancelot observed as he, Elyan, Gwaine, Leon, and Percival gathered around him, all watching Merlin until he was out of sight, having ascended the steps and disappeared into the castle.


	8. Truth or Dare

**Disclaimer: **Not much has changed these last ten minutes. For starters, I still don't own Merlin. Life's funny like that sometimes.

* * *

_Truth or Dare_

* * *

The best part about Gwaine frequenting taverns and getting into as much trouble as he was known to get into was the simple fact that he never ran out of stories to tell, out of games to play, out of ways to keep everyone entertained when he needed to.

One such occasion when his particular bit of knowledge was called upon, was when they were all out on a trip to the borders to meet with couriers from a neighboring kingdom. They were stopped for the night, well fed, but growing restless and bored.

Expectantly, everyone—Leon, Merlin, Lancelot, Elyan, Percival, Arthur even—turned to Gwaine, wondering what he might have in store for them for the night.

Lucky for them, he had just the game in mind…

It was simple, he explained, you get two choices: truth or dare. If you picked truth, you were bound by the knight's code to _honestly_ answer whatever question had been asked. And if you picked dare, you were bound by the knight's code to do whatever you were told to do, no backing out, no lying or cheating.

"Where's that leave me, then?" Merlin asked cheekily. "Being a servant and all?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, smacked him upside the head. He wasn't a knight, but he was still expected to uphold the knight's code.

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced with a stern look form Arthur. He shut it, rolled his eyes in return, and turned his attention back to Gwaine, urging him forward with the game.

Gwaine grinned, ready to begin. "Princess." He began, turning to Arthur. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth. I don't quite trust you with dare."

"Fair enough. Hmm… What do you _really _think of Merlin? And remember: knight's code."


	9. New Knights

**Disclaimer: **You know how like in kid's movies where, if you want something bad enough and wish really _really hard_ for it then you'll get it after ninety minutes of hardships and cliche life-lessons? Yeah, no, that doesn't work in real life. Do you want to know how I know? Because if it did, I would own _Merlin_ by now. And do I own Merlin yet? No. _So._ Movies are bullshit and I hate them all for lying to me my entire life. That is all.

* * *

_New Knights_

* * *

An overnight patrol was quite routine and ordinary for the most seasoned of knights, and quite exciting for the newest of knights. They thought that, in the dark of the woods, danger was lurking behind every tree and this would be their chance to prove themselves to their king and senior knights. They wanted recognition and respect and they wanted it _now._

Their impatience would be the death of them, the king had warned them all on numerous occasions, but they didn't pay him much mind. They were young and, though they respected their king, they were sure they would be _fine_. Men died all the time, yes, but not them. No, _they_ would all live to win many battles and die heroes on some far-off day and place.

If they lived through their first over-night patrol, anyway.

King Arthur was leading the patrol, of course, and with him were his most trusted of knights; all of them were famous through-out the five kingdoms: Sir Gwaine, Sir Elyan, Sir Lancelot, Sit Leon, and Sir Percival. Three newly appointed knights were joining them on this patrol: Sir Urian, Sir Bartol, and Sir Samuel.

Oh, and the king's personal manservant was there as well. Marty or Morgan or something of the such.

After stopping to rest for the night, the camp lit up with chatter, the older knights all grinning and laughing with each other and the king and even the _king's servant. _How unheard of!

Samuel pulled a curious face, nudged Bartol's arm to direct his and Urian's attention to just acorss the camp to where the king's servant was telling a story of some sort, grinning madly as he elbowed the king. All the knights laughed when he finished his tale, their humor genuine and friendly. The king even, at whom's expense the story had been told, smiled slightly, rolling his eye as he pulled his servant into a headlock, ruffled his hair, and the released him, both smiling wider than before.

"Clotpole!" The servant grinned, his cheeks flushed as he straightened his jacket and neckerchief.

"Dollophead!" The king bit back, his tone affectionate and different from the just, kind ruler the newer knights knew him to be.

"What's the story there, do you reckon?" Urian asked.

"I'd heard that the king _was_ quite fond of his manservant, but I never imagined he allowed such disrespect!" Bartol said, horrified at even the _thought_ of such a thing, let alone a display of it.

"They seem a bit too friendly, don't you think?" Samuel asked.

"He's been working for the king since he was just the prince—bound to be a bond there after all these years." Urian shrugged, picked up his water-pouch, only to find it dry, and frowned at it, his throat dry enough to become uncomfortable soon enough if he didn't get a drink from somewhere.

"What about the knights, though? They seem like they're friends with him as well."

"They've probably spent enough time with the servant that it comes easy enough to pretend to like him."

The matter was dropped quickly, and with much embarrassment, then when the king's servant himself approached them, holding out a water pouch to Urian.

"Most people call me Merlin, actually." He grinned knowingly, obviously having overheard. And if _he'd_ heard what had been said, had the king as well? _That_ was their main fear, that they would somehow offend their king with such talk of his servant. "Thought you might need this, Urian." He explained, thrusting the water into his slackened hands and exchanging it for the empty one.

"Dinner's just about done; you lot might want to settle in if you're hoping to get any." He leaned in mischievously, his eyes twinkling. "Gwaine tends to eat a lot when he can't have his drink, you know." He laughed, met with their shell-shocked expressions when the other knights joined in with laughter of their own. Gwaine interjected indignantly until the King himself, caught half-way in a fit of laughter, said that Merlin was, for once, correct in his insults, and they should probably listen to him and prepare themselves for dinner.

Merlin was still grinning when he shook his head at the new knights, made a face of amusement and patience, and then walked back to the other knights and king, threw the waterpouch down and checked on whatever he had cooking in the pot.

Urian, Bartol, and Samuel all exchanged worried looks, the other knights—the king, even!—had all heard their previous conversation! They _had_ to have heard if they'd heard a low joke like the one the servant had just told. If they were to face any sort of repercussions because of it… Well, that remained to be seen.

As one, the three knights straightened up, and made their way to where everyone was sitting, the food already passed out in the short few moments it took them to walk over.

They took their seats, looked to the servant expectantly, awaiting their dinner.

The servant, however, merely gave them an apologetic smile and a shrug. "I told you three Gwaine would get it all if you didn't get here quicker." He told them. They cast their eyes to Gwaine then, who was shoveling the food into his mouth in an exaggerated manner. He shrugged at them, continued eating without a word to them.

"Merlin isn't right about much," The King said, cutting his eyes to the servant's as he rolled his own. "But when it comes to Gwaine and food… I'd listen to him next time, if I were you." He took a bite of his own food, took his time chewing and swallowing as Samuel, Urian, and Bartol looked on in an almost pathetically devastating sort of way. "Oh, and, by the way," He added, pointing his spoon at the three, accusing and almost harsh in his next words. "His name is _Merlin,_ not 'the servant' or 'the king's manservant', just _Merlin._ Are we understood?"

The three exchanged a look, more like children caught bullying another than a knight of Camelot in that moment.

"Yes, sire." Bartol bowed slightly, genuinely apologetic.

Samuel and Urian did the same, sorry that they'd been overheard, that they would not eat that evening, that they did not quite understand the relationship between the king and his servant more than anything else.

"Right. Merlin? You may feed them now—they _are_ knights of Camelot, after all."

Merlin rolled his eyes, handed each of them a bowl of food and a spoon. "Enjoy." He told them just before he took his seat next to the king and took up his own food.


	10. A Daughter

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Merlin. Yeah, I know, I know, it _sucks_, but what're you gonna do about it?

* * *

_A Daughter_

* * *

As much as Arthur hated admitting it, as much as it made him absolutely _hate_ himself, he understood, in the years after Gwen's death, why his father had been so quick to blame magic after his own birth, after his own mother's death. And he almost _wanted_ something like that. He almost wanted someone or something to blame for Guinevere's death.

But he only had himself to blame.

She had died of complications from delivering _his_ child, and he insisted over the years that it was _his_ fault. Merlin had been the only one, after so many years of the drunken sob-story, to agree with him on the matter, if only to get him to shut up about it.

As much as he wanted to dwell on it, however, as much as he wanted to remain shattered and broken, he had a kingdom to run, and a daughter to raise.

It was hard at first, adjusting to fatherhood all on his own. But he wasn't _all alone,_ he found shortly. Aside from the council, the servants, the knights, he found, all too suddenly, that he also had Merlin. He had _always_ had Merlin, he had just… Never noticed it before.

His title was technically, "Court Sorcerer" but, well, Arthur was never clear on what duties the title came with. So one day he would be seeing over a dispute involving magic, the next he would be sharpening Arthur's sword, because no one else could ever get it to such a point that Merlin could. But, in between it all, he would always find the time to take Ingrain off Arthur's hands.

He was fond of the girl, everyone could see that, and doted on her just as much as Arthur did. She had Gwen's complexion, his bright blue eyes, Gwen's hair and kindness, Arthur's stubbornness—she was the perfect combination of the two, but, after so many years, Arthur didn't see what he _lost,_ he saw, instead, what he had gained.

A daughter, for starters, beautiful and reckless, and a closer bond with Merlin, were that even possible. They were as good as raising a daughter together, after all.


	11. You Fancy Him?

In case you're wondering, this is what my fics look like in the beginning stages when I'm focused more on dialogue than detail. I mean, that doesn't happen all too often, but, when it does, _this_ is what it looks like before I flesh it out. Except in this case I'm not going to flesh it out. So. It's shit. But. I'm going to post it anyway. Just to get it out of my way.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin, and I will have you know that a tiny little bit of my soul dies every time I have to say that, so, yeah, you should all feel bad that you keep making me say it.

* * *

_You Fancy Him?_

* * *

Still traveling through the land of Perils after having obtained the golden trident, the trio of strength, courage, and magic decided to stop with the daylight for the night. They tied off their horses and made a clearing for a fire near the edge of the forest.

"Merlin, you go gather some firewood and we'll try to find some food." Arthur decided, nodding off into the darkened woods where God knew what dwelled.

"Me?" Merlin pointed at himself dumbly, not quite sure he'd heard right. "Go into the dark, creepy forest by myself?" He asked, shaking his head, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Oh no, it can't be. Because that would mean you're sending a scrawny manservant into the dangerous woods completely unprotected. And what kind of knight, let alone a prince, would do something like that?" Merlin scoffed without humor, hands on his hips.

"You've gone out looking for firewood in the middle of the night by yourself before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but at least then I knew what I was getting into—what if there's something out there that likes to eat scrawny manservants for dinner?"

"You're afraid of the dark now, Merlin?" Arthur scoffed, hands moving to rest on his own hips.

"Not the dark, the things in the dark that want to kill me."

"You'd rather _I_ die?"

"Right now? Kind of, yeah."

"Merlin…"

"What? At least you and Gwaine have swords, I, on the other hand, have nothing. If something attacks me while I'm out there, I'm a goner."

Gwaine, then, who had stayed out of their argument and kept himself busy by tending to the horses and checking over any supplies and food any of them might have had, stepped forward, hand resting near his sword.

"Merlin's right; I'll go. It's—"

"No. I told Merlin to do it and he's going to do it. Right, Merlin?" Arthur asked pointedly, putting up a hand to stop Gwaine's movements.

"But—"

"No buts. I am your master, your prince, and you will do as I say."

"You are not _my_ prince, I'm banished from your lands, remember?" Gwaine scoffed.

"But I am still Merlin's prince."

"You don't have to put up with this, Merlin." Gwaine told him, brushing past Arthur without a blink of an eye.

"I do, though." Merlin swallowed. He had already disobeyed Arthur's orders once by not only coming after him on his quest, but by bringing Gwaine along as well. And even though it was stupid, he could not refuse to fetch the firewood as well. Not if he wanted to keep on Arthur's good side and be able to get away with things when it mattered and his life was at stake.

"I shall go fetch the firewood, _sire." _Merlin bowed towards Arthur, his voice only a little mocking. He shook his head at Gwaine's exasperation, leaving him confused and slightly annoyed.

"At least take this with you." Gwaine said, sighing as he took his sword off and handed it to Merlin.

"Thank you, Gwaine." Merlin smiled.

"'Course. Wouldn't want his highness to be without his firewood." He snorted.

"Nah, wouldn't want that at all." Merlin laughed back, then he turned and walked into the woods, leaving a cheeky Gwaine and a scowling Arthur in his wake.

*.*.*.*.*

"You could be nicer to him, you know." Gwaine finally said as he sat down on a log he'd rolled out from the forest.

"And who are you to say how I treat those who work for me?"

"His friend, that's who. And I care about him a hell of a lot more than you do."

"Who says I don't care for him?"

"You wouldn't even hug him when we finally got to him in that throne room!"

"Maybe he didn't want me to hug him."

"But he did! You didn't see the look on his face when you didn't hug him, so broken and rejected before_ I_ hugged him. Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Merlin risked his life for you."

"And it's expected of him."

"He's not a knight, and you don't see him as a friend—"

"Of course I do!"

"You are such a prat! I don't know why Merlin is wasting his affections on _you." _

"His affect—are you saying that Merlin is in love with me?"

"I don't know about love, but I do know that he fancies you."

"And how—"

"Because he looks at you the way I look at him."

"And you fancy him?"

"He's the best friend I've ever had—don't you think it was bound to happen?"


	12. Are You Afraid of The Dark?

**Disclaimer: **So bad news: I still don't own Merlin. Yeah, let that sink in. I'm so sorry to upset you like this, but, it's just... it's the truth.

* * *

_Are You Afraid of The Dark?_

* * *

There were many dangerous things out in the woods bordering the Perilous Lands, and Merlin didn't quite like the sounds of any of them, but when Arthur got something in his head—something like word of a strange magical beast that terrorized and killed anyone it came upon and how he needed to slay it to save innocent lives—it was pointless to try to dissuade him. Especially when it came to saving lives.

The knights who went out on the quest with them—Elyan, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Leon—had their resignations about the howling around them as well; they all seemed to find the quiet as eerie, as unsettling as Merlin, all of them jumping when the wind whipped menacingly through the trees as well. But they couldn't very well reveal the true reason for their feat, so they all kept quiet, pretending not to noticed when the others jumped or flinched.

It was an unsettling night all around.

So when they found they were all but out of firewood and someone would need to go out and fetch more… No one volunteered. Not even Arthur, who insisted they were all being ridiculous for being afraid of the dark.


End file.
